Waldemar the raccoon and Pumkel the goblin

More about Waldemar the raccoon and Pumkel the goblin

The day began quite normally – with pine cones creaking beneath his boots and a breakfast of hazelnuts and dried prunes. Waldemar was in a good mood. He had found a path he'd never noticed before: a narrow, moss-covered trail between two fallen giant trees that lay in the undergrowth like ancient sentinels. "Perhaps it leads to a new mushroom spot," murmured the raccoon, adjusting his red hat. He checked his backpack with the buckled strap to make sure it was secure – all ready for a new adventure. After a while, the forest grew quieter. Not eerie – more tense. The trees leaned closer, as if listening. And then Waldemar heard it too: a quiet chuckle, like wind in a glass bottle. Then a ping! – followed by a curse that sounded suspiciously high and bright. "What in all the root spirits was that?" Waldemar bent down and pushed a few ferns aside with his walking stick. There he sat: a small creature with bright red, shaggy hair, a much too large, green-yellow wool sweater, and bare feet caught in a spider web. He had his hands on his hips and was ranting to himself: "I said: anticlockwise, Pumkel, anticlockwise! But no, you wanted to annoy the butterfly... Well done, now I'm caught in Aunt Quirl's hanging trap!" Waldemar blinked. "Excuse me—you're...?" The creature jumped. "YOU can see me?! Wow! Then you're either a witch's mushroom—or one of those with a heart!" "I'm Waldemar. Hiker, mushroom picker, hat lover. And you?" "Pumkel! Forest goblin, invisibility maker, curse master, and spell inventor! And no, I'm not a goblin who steals things—unless it's really urgent." Waldemar grinned. "Should I help you out?" "No! I can do it myself. In a minute. Almost. Maybe... oh, just help." With a few moves, Pumkel was freed. As soon as he stood, he began hopping around in circles. "Freed! Saved! From the raccoon with the red hat! To which a song no one knows—and no one repeats!" He turned to Waldemar and bowed. "You now have one wish." "One wish?" "Of course. Rule number 47 in the Goblin Book: Whoever pulls a Pumkel out of the trap may ask for something—other than gold, immortality, or raspberry pie." Waldemar thought for a moment. Then he smiled: "I wish you would accompany me today." Pumkel's eyes flashed. "That is the BEST wish ever!" And so they moved on. Pumkel hopped on roots, balanced on Waldemar's backpack, and told stories of dancing moles, offended trees, and an earthworm with a hat. Waldemar laughed more than he had in a long time. They found a clearing full of glowflowers, an old treehouse without a door but with a chimney, and even a hidden mushroom circle that smelled of vanilla. As the sun sank behind the treetops, Waldemar sat down on a mossy stone. Pumkel curled up on his backpack. "You know, Waldemar..." the goblin murmured sleepily, "...some days are like magic. And sometimes a new life begins simply with a little ping!" Waldemar nodded. "And with a little red goblin caught in a spider's web."